 | Poems by Miss H. F. Gould |  |
163
COLUMBIA'S BIRTH-DAY.
AN ODE FOR THE FOURTH OF JULY.
We hail Columbia's Natal Day,
And see its glories shine,
To light the votive gifts we lay
At Freedom's holy shrine!
This hallowed day our fathers gave
The shout of “Liberty!”
And, by their spirits and the glave,
Avowed their country free!
They fearless then the battle braved,
And stood the haughty foe.
Where light and high their banner waved,
They laid oppression low.
And see its glories shine,
To light the votive gifts we lay
At Freedom's holy shrine!
This hallowed day our fathers gave
The shout of “Liberty!”
And, by their spirits and the glave,
Avowed their country free!
They fearless then the battle braved,
And stood the haughty foe.
Where light and high their banner waved,
They laid oppression low.
But warm the noble hearts that bled
Where freedom's vot'ries knelt!
Her altar's flame with life was fed,
Their foreign chains to melt.
In blood and death our laurels grew,
With verdure ne'er to cease:
They shone impearled with sorrow's dew,
Beside the branch of peace!
On piercing thorns our fathers trod,
In this bright land of ours,
To soften for their sons the sod
Now strewed with fruits and flowers.
Where freedom's vot'ries knelt!
Her altar's flame with life was fed,
Their foreign chains to melt.
In blood and death our laurels grew,
With verdure ne'er to cease:
They shone impearled with sorrow's dew,
Beside the branch of peace!
On piercing thorns our fathers trod,
In this bright land of ours,
To soften for their sons the sod
Now strewed with fruits and flowers.
164
Then sacred be our Liberty!
And may its glory beam
On every wave that man shall see,
Of time's resistless stream!
We bid the children keep in sight
The spirit of the sire—
To hold the watch-tower, and to light,
Betimes, the beacon-fire!
We bid the millions, who shall rise
When we have passed away,
With joy to hail, and ever prize,
Columbia's Natal Day!
And may its glory beam
On every wave that man shall see,
Of time's resistless stream!
We bid the children keep in sight
The spirit of the sire—
To hold the watch-tower, and to light,
Betimes, the beacon-fire!
We bid the millions, who shall rise
When we have passed away,
With joy to hail, and ever prize,
Columbia's Natal Day!
| Poems by Miss H. F. Gould | |